


Just Dance

by bistiles (alis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Porn, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/bistiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles asks Drek to play a game with him. It soon becomes more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Rach for the prompt!  
> Another one down, nine to go!  
> PS: I didn't revise this nor it went through a beta (because I don't have a beta). So if there's any weird thing, leave me a comment so I can fix it, yes? It's like way past my zzzz time so I might have made a mess.

The problem with weekends, Stiles muses, is that he it always leaves him bored.

 

It isn’t so much the weekend on itself, he does remember wanting weekends like _crazy_ when he was still in school, but after werewolves stopped being just a fairytale to become real, weekends being synonym of taking easy and resting lost its meaning. Supernatural disasters have no respect for the sanctity of school-less days and they have a habit of hitting on any day of the week, including the day before tests. Often in the day before _that_ one test you can’t fail. That’s just life in Beacon Hills, Stiles guesses.

 

Still, high school days are in the past – and so are the crazy days of supernatural treats hitting on them weekly. Therefore, weekends went back to being a synonym of peace and tranquility in Stiles’ life, which would be a blessing except Stiles is still hyperactive and absolutely used to his days passing in a blur of chaos and madness.

 

Hence, the boredom.

 

He is lying on the couch, Xbox controller in hand, killing enemies on the new installment of Counter Strike. He didn’t bother knowing which one is that, he doesn’t really care – the game’s Scott’s and he just borrowed it for killing time. Scott isn’t in town anyway, since he got himself stranded at home studying, while Stiles drove back to Beacon Hills. As always, Scott is taking again after the umpteenth breakup with Allison and Stiles thinks that’s the way Scott’s life will go for the rest of eternity: loving Allison, everything goes fine. They break up and Scott becomes incapable of boiling water without causing mayhem. Stiles just honest hopes that Allison and Scott manage to become a little more stable before Scott becomes a paramedic otherwise… Well, Stiles doesn’t really want to think about that.

 

He headshots another poor noob and sighs. Kill another one and groans. He is about to knife an unsuspecting player from behind when Derek sits down besides him and glares. Stiles blinks, attention diverted from the game for a second and when he looks back at the game _he_ is dead. He flails, and sit up, shaking the controller at Derek’s general direction.

 

“Derek! Look at what you did! Do you have any idea what humiliation it is to lose to some twelve year old noob that can barely hold the controller?”

 

As expected, Derek completely ignores his blabbering, pulling the Xbox controller from Stiles’ hand. Stiles dives trying to catch it back, half afraid Derek’s going to crush the thing in his hand, but he knows he has as much sense of taking it back from a damn werewolf as he has to staying still for more than twenty seconds.

 

“You’re annoying me. I can hear your sighing and moaning from the garage.” Derek says, still frowning.

 

“Well, stop being a creeper and listening to me then, you pervert wolf. It’s rude to eavesdrop on people; no one ever told you that?” Stiles shoots back, not bothering to measure his words. He completely lost the capacity of holding back around Derek since- Actually, Stiles is pretty sure he never really did and the only difference now is that he doesn’t expect physical violence as a response. Something for which he is so completely glad.

 

Derek just glares his best glare, one that still makes strangers cower but long lost the effect on Stiles. It actually makes Stiles want to cuddle Derek and kiss his nose, it’s almost cute when he tries the sour wolf act on Stiles. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

“I’m bored. I’m super bored, Derek. I’m so bored I think I’ll melt right and become one with the couch. No one will ever find me again and I’ll suffer the indignity of having everybody’s butt on me all the time for the rest of my days.”

 

Again, Derek chooses to wisely ignore the nonsense and forges on. “Stop playing this and go out. Do something. Exercise.”

 

This time it’s Stiles’s turn to glare, because really. Derek should know better by now.

 

“What’s the last time you saw me voluntarily exercising, Derek?”

 

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

 

“So not the problem. Unlike you, I have no need to run through the woods. In fact, running through the woods is dangerous, I could hook my foot on a root and fall down, like any good female protagonist in a horror movie.”

 

“… You’re not a female, Stiles.”

 

“No, but I could pass through it in the absence of a proper defenseless female character.”

 

That actually makes Derek frown, this time in confusion – and Stiles strongly suspects he is more confused about the _defenseless_ than the female comment. They both know he is anything but, that all the trouble coming their way taught Stiles how to fend for himself in the hard way and he became _good_ at it. Stiles stifles a laugh when Derek throws him a dark look, and lies back on the couch, nudging Derek with his foot until he actually grants him access to his lap. He sighs and gets comfortable.

 

“I’m just… I don’t know. I think I forgot how to lead a slow life. College helps, being chaotic, but sometimes…” Stiles shrugs and makes a random gesture with his hand, trying to convey what he’s trying to say with body gesture. “I don’t miss having my life at risk on daily basis, but-“

 

“I get what you mean, Stiles.” Derek cuts short, looking at Stiles sideways. He just nods back, looking at nothing for a moment, letting his mind drift. He doesn’t miss trips to the hospital or fearing for his life – and the lives of everybody he loves and holds dear. He doesn’t miss the physical pain or the psychological one. He doesn’t miss losing people and doing his best to push aside the panic and the hurt. But suddenly being still, being quite and calm, it simply seems like something Stiles isn’t exactly sure how to do anymore. And it’s unsettling how he craves the respite from his now normal life at college and his part time job, but when he gets it, he isn’t sure what to do with it.

 

There’s a moment of silence, of quiet bonding between them. For a moment, Stiles has a feeling Derek is thinking the same as him, remembering a time where being with his legs stretched of Derek’s lap, talking about nothing or even Derek even really caring about Stiles to come to him in the first place wasn’t possible. He knows is right when he sees the way Derek is looking at him, the quiet pressure of his hand against his ankle, where Derek press and rubs, before letting go. Stiles smiles at him, suddenly missing Derek terribly. While Stiles moved out to another city, pursuing his major in History, Derek stayed behind in Beacon Hills. It was hard. For both of them. At the time, they were both suspended in a weird state of almost-relationship, where they were both painful and finally aware of the long latent attraction for one another but neither had the courage to make a move. And somehow moving away seemed to put a stone in the subject, sedimenting that they missed the opportunity and it wasn’t meant to be. Stiles left, Derek stayed and it took them six more months of awkward visits and long silences before the tension finally broke between them and they did something about it.

 

Sometimes Stiles wondered if they had engaged earlier, before going to Berkeley, if maybe it would have changed something between them, maybe Derek moving too. Or maybe Stiles would have stayed, god knew that part of him wanted to stay, of nothing because while his Dad was ridiculously proud of him, Stiles knew he was also a bit heartbroken of seeing him go.

 

“Stop thinking, I can hear it from here.” Derek says, not unkindly. Stiles makes a face, but says nothing back; sometimes even him get wordless and Derek knows it, filling himself the silence. “Go back to your silly game and stop brooding.”

 

“Oh yeah, you’re one to talk about brooding, Mr. Grumpypants.” Stiles laughs, taking the controller back from Derek. He puts the Xbox back to the main screen and is about to open something silly to play when the idea pops in his mind and he can’t help but laugh preemptively. Derek eyes him carefully. “You know what, you’re going to play with me.”

 

Derek gives him an warning glance, but Stiles ignores and proceeds to roll to the floor, scurrying to the console and pulling game cases around until he finds what he wants. He turns the case to Derek, smirking maniacally.

 

“No way.” Derek says indignantly, standing up and Stiles rushes to him, game in hand. “You must be out of your mind.”

 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Stiles says, holding Derek’s arm and pulling him back to the couch. Derek goes and that alone is a victory – Stiles knows that he wouldn’t be able to move Derek an inch if he didn’t allow.

 

“Stiles, this isn’t by any chance what I understand as ‘fun’.” Derek grunts and sits down, crossing his arms. Stiles proceeds to gingerly sit on his lap, smiling at Derek’s face. He can see the amusement almost breaking the surface of his hard façade and Stiles pushes harder to see it appear.

 

“You know it’s fun, I remember you laughing at Scott’s attempts at it.”

 

“Yes, because Scott was making a fool of himself.”

 

“Are you afraid of making a fool of yourself, Derek? Why, I thought you had more trust in your abilities.”

 

The bait obviously doesn’t work, Derek is smarter than that, but if there’s something Stiles is, that is annoyingly insistent. “It isn’t all the fun to play alone, Derek.”

 

“Play something else.”

 

“You were the one to tell me to exercise.”

 

“I meant real exercise. Outside, Stiles, not a game.”

 

“I can set the Xbox outside if you want.”

 

It’s not working and they both know it. So Stiles decides it’s completely valid to play it dirt to get what he wants. He was never above playing off the rules anyway.

 

He settles himself a bit forward in Derek’s lap, let’s his body language change and tell Derek what he means before the words do. He knows it’s working because this close he can see his pupils dilating, he feels Derek’s hand creeping up his hips, holding lightly as if waiting for further encouragement. “We go, let’s say, three rounds. If you win, you can get whatever you want, Derek. I’ll repeat so it can sink in. _Whatever. You. Want._ ”

 

They both know that Stiles isn’t about to deny Derek anything. They both know it isn’t much left to explore too; god knows they spent every single available time since they started dating having as much sex as humanly possible (Stiles thinks that maybe if he was a wolf he would be able to go even further, since Derek’s stamina is just _ridiculous_ ). But it’s the challenge and the offer, it’s the chase that turns them both on and Stiles knows that Derek can’t just turn it down. He likes pursuing Stiles in little games, like a predator to a prey. A very willing prey.

 

After a moment, Derek bites Stiles’ jaw and grunts in agreement, making Stiles whoop in celebration, before hoping off his lap and rushing to the Xbox. He puts the game, quickly navigates the menu and is already laughing hard by the time _Just Dance_ finishes loading. He wishes he could record this and make it eternal, but Stiles knows that is just pushing a bit too much.

 

Awkwardly, Derek stands up and shuffles forward. Stiles smiles at him. “You know what to do, don’t you? Just follow what’s in the screen, okay?”

 

Derek says nothing, only glares harder at the screen. Stiles puts a song, and claps his hands together, pretending to warm up himself, while Derek only looks at him like he’s completely crazy. “Ready?”

 

The song starts and they dance, Derek barely moving at first, then moving a bit more until by the end of the song he is moving in what Stiles could classify as almost-dancing. He smirked at Derek’s surprising high score and patted him in the shoulder.

 

“I knew you were a natural.”

 

Derek just rolls his eyes and says nothing back, but stays standing, looking at the screen. Stiles takes the chance and selects another song and they dance again. And again.

 

By the time Stiles calls it to an end, sweating and slightly breathless, Derek managed to crush him in the game. Which was to be expected really, werewolf reflexes and whatnot. He drops in the couch, laughing breathlessly and Derek lowers himself over Stiles, looking stupidly composed.

 

“I guess you won.”

 

“Of course I did.”

 

“So what will you require of me?”

 

Derek growls low, a rumble that makes Stiles shiver in response, they kiss, long and messily, and no other word is needed. Stiles knows exactly what Derek wants, if the way the rumble intensifies when his hands proceed to undo the button on Derek’s jeans and pull the zip down, before sneaking inside his underwear. He strokes Derek hard, before pulling back from the kiss, noticing absentminded that he is already stripped waist up, damn Derek and his fast-working hands.

 

Said hands get a grip on Stiles’ dick and stroke him just right, making him moan loudly and scratch that, god bless those hands, they are _magical_ , he thinks to himself. He raises his hips a bit, helping Derek pull his own jeans lower, giving better access for Derek to do whatever he wants, Stiles doesn’t even care, he’s absolutely down with it as long as it involves his hands on where he needs it most.

 

They both manage to pull apart for a moment, where Derek just let his hand slid down Stiles’ torso. “Here?”

 

For a moment Stiles doesn’t get the question and opens his mouth to question, when he gets it. He is so far gone that it hadn’t occurred to him that they are about to have sex all over the damn couch and that wouldn’t be much of a problem, except his Dad would be so angry if he found out or somehow they ended up staining the fabric beyond repair. So Stiles nods in agreement, standing up with Derek’s hands still all over him and they manage to make their way upstairs while still kissing and touching, and Stiles pins the feat entirely in Derek’s ability, because he is far too clumsy to manage that, worse yet when half his blood isn’t in his brain anymore.

 

Stiles stumbles into bed, falling back while Derek finishes stripping. Unfair bastard still looks so good that it makes Stiles mouth go dry. The novelty of exploring each other long faded back in the days of frenzied sex of a new relationship, but that doesn’t mean that their libido abated an inch. Derek’s body still makes Stiles lose his focus in anything _but_ him and Stiles is pretty confident that the same holds true to Derek. He watches him climb into bed and opens his legs to for him to fall between, which Derek does. They stare at each other for a moment before resuming the kissing, with as much want as before. Patience isn’t a trait Stiles has and Derek is just as bad at it. So they just go for it, hard and deep, while Derek pushes Stile’s jeans off, as well as his underwear, before sliding down, making his way in Stiles’ skin as he goes. Stiles moans and babbles unrestricted, writhing a bit, while red spots start to blossom on his skin where Derek did his job, biting and sucking. Once upon a time, that had been a little embarrassing to explain. Now Stiles couldn’t care less. He lets Derek explore his body with tongue and teeth, making Stiles’ body feel like all nervous terminations, his skin feeling alive under each and every touch.

 

He squirms, huffing an aborted moan when Derek licks a long strip of skin, from the side of his hip to close to his belly button, his stubbled chin brushing feather-lightly against the head of his swollen cock. “What are you doing, giving me a tongue bath, big guy? I thought that was more of a cat thing than a wolf thing”. He jokes, his panting breath making his words less sharp. Humor is hard when a mouth is sucking a hickey in your navel.

 

Derek just glowers at him and gives Stiles a punishing bite on his hipbone, hard enough to leave the imprint of his teeth on Stiles’ skin; the right amount of pressure to make Stiles curse and

 

It doesn’t take long for Derek to finally finally _finally_ put his mouth to use where Stiles actually needs, and Stiles pushes up into the working tongue, wanting more into the moist heat, but Derek pins his hips down in the mattress and he’s forced to just take it, not quietly, _never_ quietly. He makes a point of being vocal when Derek does this thing with his tongue up his dick that somehow seems to have a direct connection with his balls and _holy shit_ , Derek might not use his mouth all that much for talking, but God knows his talents lies elsewhere.

 

“Oh god, oh man- fuck Derek yes, oh shit, deeper, c’mon”, Stiles coos, hands on Derek’s short hair, fingers gripping as he tries to coach Derek to take him whole inside. Stiles knows he can – and oh yes, so can Stiles, not as skillfully but still – and he just needs to feel Derek swallowing around his dick. “I know you can- Ooooh man, yesss.” He hisses when Derek finally dives in and deep throats him. His head falls back in his pillow and digs one heel on Derek’s back, pleasure coursing through him without any control. For a moment, he thinks he is going to come, but Derek pulls back and grips the base of his cock strongly enough to put his impending orgasm at bay.

 

“Not yet.” Derek grumbles, releasing his grip in favor of stroking Stiles. The perks of having a werewolf fucking you, Stiles thinks contently, is that somehow they can smell when your orgasm is ready to hit you and they can do something about it. The downside is actually the same, when orgasm denial is actually a thing said werewolf enjoys. Not that Stiles is complaining, not really.

 

He is almost coming again from the handjob alone, when he feels Derek pushing his legs further apart and up, and he helps hooking his arm under his knees and holding himself for Derek. He’s open and exposed and maybe that gave him some sort of anxiousness in the past, but now he’s way past the ability to feel ashamed, for more reasons than one. He just grunts when Derek’s finger circles his entrance, fingers cool with lube, before pushing in. It slips in and Derek goes back at blowing Stiles for a moment while he works his finger in and out, then in again, rhythmically fingering him. It’s not really exploratory, just a mean to get Stiles properly stretched. And even if Derek isn’t putting all that much effort in the foreplay aspect of the fingering, it still feels good, because damn Derek, even when he’s in a hurry he’s somewhat careful and attentive. Stiles pushes back as he can, enjoying the burn and the stretch, revealing the in fullness that’s soon to increase considerably. He hisses when a third fingers comes in and he positively shouts when a fourth makes its way inside, and this is it, it’s enough for Stiles and he needs it _now_.

 

“Fucking fuckity- Derek, enough, ok now- _Now_ , Derek!” Stiles babbles and makes a half-hearted attempt to kick Derek away, because really there’s only so much teasing he’s willing to put up with, especially when he knows Derek is hard and dripping precome in his sheets inside of fucking him. Derek smirks, he actually smirks, and Stiles resists the urge of punching him. Bastard.

 

Derek withdraws his fingers and positions himself. He bends Stiles nearly in two, pushing his legs up his shoulders, pressing his chest into the back of Stiles’ legs and then aligns himself before pushing in in one smooth movement. Stiles grunts and buckles, but doesn’t move much, not when Derek has him pinned in the mattress.

 

“Dude, I’m- Oh damn, I’m no contortionist, easy there!” He glares at Derek, but Derek ignores it in favor of pulling back before slamming in again. Stiles decides he can take being uncomfortable for a moment or two if it means he gets to feel Derek’s cock inside him, reaching further that the fingers ever could and damn if Stiles will ever get over how good – even if weird – it feels to be this full. Derek actually eases a bit, not pressing Stiles so much and he’s glad.

 

They fall into a rhythm, hard and fast, much like they both are. The bed is creaking ominously and Stiles supposed that one day the poor furniture will give out under their abuses, but he hopes it’ll hope just a bit longer. Derek is rocking into him, hips snapping forward with purpose and Stiles can’t keep his moan in check. Hell, he doesn’t _want_ to keep his moans in check, he wants to whine and scream, so he does. Derek seems turned on by the sounds, so Stiles makes sure to let him know when he’s hitting the right place, and really, he doesn’t even need to consciously moan for Derek, the sound is wrenched out of his throat without much on his part. Werewolf stamina can take them for a long time, but Stiles is still human, so soon enough he needs to come, he just needs to, so he grips himself tightly in his fist and pumps himself. He watches Derek frown, and then he feels his hand being swatted away, carefully, and Derek jacks him off, doing it just the way that’ll make Stiles come hard and fast and so he does, fingers digging in Derek’s arm while his mouth opens in a soundless scream, too much for him to even make a sound. He shakes, spurting coming over his own belly and chest while Derek keeps fucking him, through his orgasm. Stiles is still shaking hard, toes still curled, and just starting to get oversensitive when he notices Derek’s hips stutter, losing his unforgiving rhythm and then stopping. He admires Derek as he whines low in his throat, coming deep inside Stiles.

 

It takes them both a moment to get back to the real world and Stiles scrunches his nose in distaste at the feeling of his ass full of spunk. He manages to stand up, legs working as well as of a newborn deer, and he wobbles his way to the bathroom. Derek follows, in way better condition, and Stiles punches his arm on principle for the stamina. Derek says nothing, just catches Stiles’ hand and kisses his knuckles lightly before pushing Stiles inside the bathroom and opening the faucets to start the bath.

 

Stiles sighs happily. “See, it wasn’t all that bad making you play.”

 

Derek smiles a tiny smile, one that makes him look so much younger and makes Stiles heart stutter in his chest. Damn him, if he isn’t head over heels.

 

“So it seems. Come, let’s get you clean.”

 

Stiles laughs and goes to him. Sometimes life sucks, true but all in all? Life is actually pretty good.


End file.
